| |
“How did it go?” Naseeb grinned as Oskar sat down at the table in the dining hall.
Oskar shook his head.
“They didn’t believe the note was real?” Naseeb let the chicken leg he’d been gnawing on fall back onto his plate. “Are we in trouble?”
“Oh, the note fooled them. At least, it fooled the fellow minding the store. The problem is, they keep all such notes and pass them along to Corwine.”
“We’ve got to get it back.” Naseeb slapped his palm on the table. “If Master Sibson finds out I forged his signature, I’ll be turned out at once.”
“I’ll tell them I forged it. No need to bring you or Whitt into it. You were only trying to help me, after all.” Oskar hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he couldn’t see how he could avoid it.
“I don’t want you to get chucked out either. We’ve got to do something.”
Oskar shrugged. “Any suggestions?”
“Not really.” Naseeb chewed on his lower lip and gazed into the distance. “I suppose we could sneak down there tonight and try to get inside.”
“Maybe. I can’t believe they would make it easy to get inside. The door might even be magically warded.” Oskar rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the dull pain rising in his head. “If I can’t come up with a better idea, I’ll try the door. I don’t want you to go, in case I’m caught.”
“We’re in this together. Besides, I don’t have anything else to do tonight.”
Oskar remembered that he, in fact, did have something to do. “I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know about tonight.” Rising, he took an apple from his plate and pocketed it inside his robe. It might not have been what Lizzie had in mind when she said to bring her a surprise, but right now he was too distracted by his own problems to think of something better.
“You’re late.”
Oskar jumped as the words rang out in the darkness of the stairwell.
“Lizzie?” His voice came out in a rasp. “What are you doing in here?”
“Keep your voice down,” she whispered. “You weren’t exactly nimble up on the roof, so I thought it would be safer to meet you down here. You’re more likely to survive a tumble down some stairs than a fall from a rooftop.”
He strained his eyes to see in the dark, but the blackness was absolute. Remembering himself, he extended his hand and called up the circle of light. A few paces away, Lizzie shielded her eyes.
“Next time warn me before you do that.”
“Sorry.” He let the light fade to a dull glow. Like the last time he’d seen her, she was clad in tight, dark clothing that would have caused a scandal in Galsbur. He looked away, grateful that the darkness hid his discomfort.
“Where’s my surprise?” she asked.
Oskar handed her the apple.
“Oh! I never get fresh fruit unless I steal it from the grounds here. Most of the time, it’s not worth the bother. It seems you people love your midnight strolls in the orchard.” She bit down on the apple with a loud crunch.
“You steal things from the grounds? But you’re...” Oskar stopped himself in mid-sentence.
“I’m what?” Lizzie smiled. “A girl?”
“You’re too pretty to be a thief.”
“Right.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that more times than I care to think about, usually from fat old men who reek of sour wine; men who have to be taught to keep their hands to themselves.”
“No, I really mean it.” Oskar’s mouth was dry. “I like your eyes and your smile.”
“Nice try. ‘You have pretty eyes’ is the line young men use in hopes you won’t notice what they’re really looking at. Maybe that worked with your farm girls back home, but you’ll have to try harder to sway me.” She sat down on the stairs, took another bite of the apple, and smiled as he struggled for words.
“Not me,” he finally said. “I’m just the fat boy who likes to read.”
Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. “Does fat mean something different on the farm than it does in the city?” Smiling at the puzzled look on Oskar’s face, she reached up and poked him in the belly. “You, my bear of a friend, might be clumsy, but you’re hardly fat.”
Oskar put a hand to his stomach and was surprised to realize what remained of his soft middle had melted away. He knew his travels had firmed him up, but he hadn’t realized how much of a change it had wrought in his physique. He had to stop himself from flexing his arms just to see how much his muscles had developed.
“I swear, I don’t know what to make of you.” Lizzie finished her apple, pocketed the core, and indicated with a tilt of her head that he should sit down beside her.
Oskar settled uncomfortably on the stone steps and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He veritably tingled at her touch. He hadn’t had many opportunities to enjoy such closeness with a girl and wasn’t quite sure what to do now. Should he put his arm around her? Heart racing, stomach turning somersaults, he shifted so he could snake his arm around her waist, and succeeded only in jostling her.
Lizzie sat up straight. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not that, I was just moving around.” His mind seemed to be moving at half speed. “The steps are uncomfortable.” He reached out and clumsily took her hand. For a moment, he wondered if she’d pull away, or even reach for her belt knife, but she took his hand in both of hers and rested it on her knee. They sat there in the dim light until the companionable silence turned uncomfortable. He racked his brain for something to talk about.
“The other night I asked you if you know a way into the archives. Do you?”
“I might. I know my way into quite a few places I shouldn’t. What’s in there that’s so important to you?”
“Mostly, I need information, but that’s a long story. Right now, what I need the most is a document.” He told her about the forged pass.
Lizzie’s eyes grew serious and she fixed him with an appraising look. “You acted so shocked at the thought of me stealing fruit, but now you want me to break into your archives and steal something for you. You’re not the most honest fellow in the world, are you?”
“I suppose not,” he admitted. “I’m desperate. Can you help me?”
Lizzie made a show of considering his request. “I can,” she finally said, “but not for free.”
“I have a little money, but it’s back in my quarters.”
“Not money. I want a story.”
“A story?” He knew plenty of stories— some from the books he’d read, others heard on the porch of Master Serrill’s inn or at his grandfather’s knee. But what sort of story did she want to hear?
Lizzie seemed to read his thoughts. “Not that kind of story. I want to hear about the world outside of the city. I’ve never left, and I suppose I never will.” Her face fell. “Tell me a story from your life, and make it good. I want to believe I’m really there.”
Oskar had listened to stories all his life, but he’d never tried to tell one of his own creation, and he had no gift for description, so he figured he should start with something familiar. He began with his home of Galsbur. He described the various shops that ringed the emerald oval of the town green, and the great tree with the odd carvings on its surface. Warming to his task, he soon found it easy to paint pictures with his words. He recalled with great clarity the Vulltu River, the sound it made is it rushed over the rocks, the way its icy water numbed his toes when he dangled his feet in the water, and its pure, clean taste. Soon, the words seemed to pour forth of their own volition. He lost his train of thought once when Lizzie shifted onto her side and laid her head in his lap, but he recovered quickly. He talked about his friendship with Hierm and Shanis, and soon had her in stitches with tales of Shanis’ prodigious temper. When he told the story of how Shanis, in a fit of rage, had climbed up onto the roof of her house and used her sword to hack a hole in the thatched roof, Lizzie’s eyes popped open.
“You’re lying.” She poked him in the chest for emphasis.
“May the gods strike me down if it’s not the truth.”
She sat up. “You’re a good storyteller, but it’s getting late. I need to hurry if I’m going to get your paper back.”
“I should go with you.”
“No. I’ll need you to keep watch. Besides, I can move quickly and quietly in the dark. I doubt you can say the same.” She didn’t wait for him to argue with her but stood and mounted the stairs. Oskar followed along behind. “Can you at least try to be quiet? You walk like a runaway draft horse,” she whispered.
Shanis and Allyn had tried to teach Oskar how to move silently in the forest, but that mostly involved him not being foolish or clumsy enough to step on dry leaves and branches or brush against shrubbery. He’d never advanced to the point where he learned how to properly place his feet. He tried tiptoeing but found that difficult on the steps, so he settled for walking on the balls of his feet, which at least kept the heels of his boots from clacking on the stone steps.
“Better,” she whispered. “Next you can work on your breathing. You sound like an ox with a cold.”
Oskar stifled a laugh. In some ways, Lizzie reminded him of Shanis.
They’d climbed for no more than a minute when Lizzie came to a stop. “It’s right here,” she whispered.
“What is?” Oskar focused on the light that hovered in front of him and it shone brightly. He saw nothing to distinguish this spot from any other.
“The way in.” She knelt and ran a hand along the riser in front of her. “Found it.” She drew her knife and pushed it into the stone until it stopped and then rotated it a quarter turn to the left.
Oskar sucked in his breath as the stair slid back, revealing a dark opening.
Lizzie slid gracefully into the hole. A moment later, she stuck her head back out. “Tell me exactly where to find your paper.” She listened intently as he gave directions. “All right. I’ll be back soon. Whatever you do, don’t pull the knife out. If you do, I’ll be trapped.”
Smiling, Oskar let his light die. He settled down on the steps to wait. He strained to hear any sound that might warn of someone approaching, but he heard nothing. Finally, a soft, shuffling sound came from the hole, and Lizzie climbed out a moment later.
“Did you get it?” Oskar asked.
“I did.”
Oskar heard the sound of the step moving back into place, and then he felt her take his hand.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She didn’t sound afraid, but there was a tension in her voice that hadn’t been there before.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered as they pounded down the steps.
“I don’t know how, but someone knew I was there. I heard footsteps coming in my direction. I barely got away.”
“Probably a spell of some sort.” He wondered if such a thing were possible. He could ask Master Zuhayr, but if word got around that someone had broken into the archives, the question might raise suspicion.
“I had to eat your letter, you know,” Lizzie said.
“What?”
“I couldn’t risk getting you into trouble if I got caught, so I destroyed the evidence.”
“How did it taste?”
“Like chicken.” Lizzie giggled. They paused at the bottom of the stairwell. She opened the door, looked up and down the corridor, and finally stepped out. “I’m going to sneak out through the grounds. You should stay away from the archives tonight. Find a different way back to your quarters, just to be safe.”
“When can I see you again?” Oskar blurted before he had time to stop himself.
“Two nights from now. Meet me at the top of the steps at moonrise.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said. “I’d have been in serious trouble if you hadn’t gotten that letter.”
“You are getting deeper in debt to me. Next time, I want a better present than an apple.” Suddenly, she took his face in her hands, rose up on her tiptoes, and kissed him hard on the lips. “Goodnight,” she whispered. And then she was gone.
Oskar stared at the spot where she’d stood a moment before, glad no one could see the foolish grin spreading across his face. For an instant, he considered following her, but knew he’d never find her. She moved like a shadow.
A noise behind him caught his attention, and he whirled about to see a figure disappear around a corner. Who had it been? He hastily stripped off his boots and took off at a run down the hallway. He was surprised to discover he actually could move quietly and quickly when he put his mind to it. Reaching the corner, he paused and peered around. The figure was moving at a fast walk, not looking back. This stretch of hallway was long and straight, and Oskar risked being seen if he followed too closely, but he had to know who it was. Heart in his throat, he took off again, this time at a trot. His gentle footfalls sounded like thunder to his ears, but the figure up ahead continued on, seemingly unaware that Oskar followed.
He was twenty paces away when he froze. Up ahead, a sliver of moonlight shone through a tall, narrow window, and as the figure passed through it, Oskar recognized the fair skin and pale blond hair.
Agen had been spying on him.